


Together

by avenginghunters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avenginghunters/pseuds/avenginghunters
Summary: Where in the world is Bellamy Blake? Clarke has got to find out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set as if Clarke had come back to camp after the end of season two.

“How much do you want to bet those areas with the skull and crossbones aren’t any more dangerous than the rest of this hellscape?” Raven laughed before falling backwards onto the fur-covered bunkbed, carefully positioning her bad leg and sighing at the release of pressure from her good one. 

Clarke shook her head and pulled out the very last of the hide maps Lincoln had painstakingly recreated for them. “I don’t know, but this one is definitely Pauna’s feeding grounds, so that one is legitimately dangerous. Not sure about the others, but Lincoln isn’t exactly easily scared and he seemed spooked just drawing them on the map.” She traced the lines etched into the hide and darkened with a paste Lincoln had made himself. They were carefully made with Lincoln’s incredible attention to detail, but embellishments on the edges and some small drawings representing fresh water, friendly homes, and good hunting grounds betrayed his status as an artist, not purely a map maker. 

“Where do you think Bellamy is going when he says he’s hunting?” Raven changed the subject abruptly, pulling Clarke away from her admiration of the maps. 

She froze, but quickly composed herself and managed a shrug. _Can’t lose focus. This could save our lives._ She’d been chanting that in her head for months to keep her mind busy. A busy mind couldn’t rehash the past and break down nearly as easy as an idle one. A busy mind didn’t have time for regret. 

“I’m serious, Clarke. What if he’s doing something stupid? Aren’t you worried?” Raven persisted. 

“Bellamy isn’t doing anything stupid. He’s probably just hunting like he says, but of course I worry about him. I worry about everyone.” Clarke briefly turned her head, trying to see if Raven was buying it. In the relatively peaceful months after the Mountain, she’d lived and worked side-by-side with Raven and had learned to recognize many of Raven’s very unique facial expressions. The one she wore screamed “try again, asshole”. Clarke didn’t expect anything less when even she didn’t believe her own words. Once or twice a week, Bellamy would leave for hours and return much happier, but without a single scrap of food. Bad luck today, he would say to another hunter with an increasingly rare grin. The next day, his good mood would sour, but dinner would be a bit better off. 

“Bullshit, Clarke. We both know something’s off with him.” 

Clarke finally turned away from the maps to see Raven had sat up. She expected an answer. “I don’t know, maybe it was the whole killing 300 people thing.” Clarke spat, immediately regretting the outburst as Raven’s smile disappeared. It wasn’t Raven’s fault, she knew, but everyone was ignoring the root of their problem. “I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered. Raven’s glare dissipated as she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s fine, but you’ve got to get your head out of your ass, Griffin. Talk to Bellamy and both of you figure your shit out. This camp needs both of you almost as much as it needs me.” 

Clarke feigned disbelief, “Is that a compliment I’m hearing?”

“I said almost. Don’t let it go to your head.”

XX

Clarke found Bellamy inventorying his arrows and filling a jug of water near the south entrance of their blossoming camp. They weren’t allowed to hunt with guns anymore to conserve ammunition, but Lincoln’s wealth of knowledge and broad, but somewhat limited expertise in weapon-making had ensured the end of hunting with only hatchets and knives. Bellamy had taken to a bow like a fish to water, but his gun remained holstered on his hip. After what he’d been through and accomplished in Mt. Weather, Clarke knew they’d have to pry it from his cold, dead hands. 

“Bellamy.” She made sure he could hear her approach before she called out his name. She couldn’t count the amount of times someone made her jump out of her skin by yelling her name or putting an arm around her shoulder just a little too quickly. 

“Clarke,” his voice was softer than she expected, but he didn’t look up from piles of arrows and bag of rations laying on top of the water supply tub. Clarke couldn’t blame him. They’d been more or less avoiding one another since Mt. Weather, and it was killing her, but every time she saw him she felt her hands pulling that lever. Every time she heard his voice, she heard his hoarse whisper in the control room of the mountain. Together.

She powered through the guilt and smiled at him, not knowing whether he could see it or not. “Going hunting?” She tested the waters, afraid he’d shut down like they both had on the few occasions they’d tried to interact. The long talk they’d had on the way back from the Mountain hadn’t been long enough to unpack themselves fully, and the radio silence since then wasn’t enough to keep their seams from ripping at the most inconvenient times. 

“Yeah.” He grunted a reply, counting and recounting his arrows. 

“You sure?” 

Silence. It seemed like an eternity to Clarke, but Bellamy’s gulp, and the fact that he hadn’t already bolted told Clarke that he wasn’t planning on shutting her out. Yet. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally broke the silence. 

She took her time forming the question, giving both her and Bellamy time to back out. Time to keep running. 

“Raven is worried about you.” It wasn’t a lie, but she could tell Bellamy knew that wasn’t the whole truth. 

“Why isn’t Raven here then?” he asked, silently beginning to fill his quiver. The quiver slung across his back seemed more like the bottom of an hourglass to Clarke. Arrow by arrow, the window was closing.

“We are worried about you. She doesn’t think you go out to hunt as often as you say you do. I told her that that was ridic-“

“She’s right.” He interrupted her, plucking the last arrow off the plastic tub. He wordlessly tied a final knot into the strip of fabric that served as a strap for his canteen and slung that over his shoulder as well. 

Clarke couldn’t speak for a few moments. He was only confirming what her gut had been telling her for over a month, but it was still a shock to hear it from him. 

“Where in the hell have you been going then?” she could hear the edge in her voice, but did nothing to control it. If Bellamy was putting himself in unnecessary danger by skulking around, then maybe he deserved to hear it. 

“Do you want to see?”

“What?” she couldn’t believe him. Another confirmed gut feeling: Bellamy Blake was the most infuriating person on the planet. 

“Do you want to see where in the hell I’ve been going?” he turned toward the gate, waving at the boy on duty there. She followed him, despite every muscle in her body telling her not to give in to his ridiculous theatrics. The boy smirked and she shot him a glare cold enough to wipe it from his face. The great Wahnheda. 

Xx

The walk was silent for the most part, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like it has been for months. They broke it occasionally, Bellamy pointing out a small, mutated bird, or Clarke mentioning how glad she was that the mosquitoes weren’t as bad as usual. Bellamy laughed. That was one thing the Ark definitely had over the Ground. 

“We about there?” Clarke asked after an hour walk. 

“Just about.” He replied curtly. She was beginning to get impatient, and holding back a thousand “are we there yets” was becoming more and more difficult. 

Ten minutes later, Bellamy stopped. They had approached the ruins of a building, but Clarke couldn’t tell what it could’ve been for. The remaining walls only stood about a foot above the ground and had crumbled even further in some spots. Trees had sprouted through the foundation in some places, but it could have been a palace from the look on Bellamy’s face. He crossed the threshold and made a beeline for a large, rotted tree at the edge of the building. 

Clarke could hardly believe what he pulled out of the rotted tree, and every thought except _Bellamy-fuckin’-Blake_ died before it was born. Bellamy strummed the worn looking guitar that he’d pulled out, and a smile she hadn’t seen up-close in months spread across his face. He seemed satisfied with the state of the guitar and knelt in front of the tree, reaching further down and pulling out a zippered bag encased in a larger plastic one. 

“What in the hell, Bellamy?” she was laughing before she realized it. She’d been worried (they’d all been worried) he was being reckless and looking for a fight out in the wild, but there he was, looking happy as a damn clam and strumming an antique guitar. 

“I found it in Mt. Weather before they collected everything and put it on lockdown. This is where in the hell I’ve been going.” He began picking at the guitar, a soft, slow tune that she’d never heard before. 

“It’s beautiful Bellamy.” Clarke had forgotten her surprise, and even the anger she’d felt when she saw the guitar. He smiled and touched the strings fondly. 

“She’s helped me out a lot, Clarke, and I’m sorry I didn’t share her with you.” He hung his head and leaned the guitar up against the rotted tree. 

Clarke sighed and picked it up. “It’s a her now? Anyway, you’ve got time to make it up to me, Bellamy, but first you’ve got to show me you’re a good enough player to teach me.” 

He took he guitar back, slinging the strap over his head and grinning like an idiot. He pulled a book of music out of the zippered pouch, knelt, and spread it flat on the ground. Clarke held her breath as Bellamy began his first few test strums and looked back up at her and began singing.

> “Wise men say only fools rush in  
>  but I can’t help falling in love with you.  
>  Shall I stay  
>  Would it be a sin  
>  If I can't help falling in love with you?” 

She recognized the song immediately. Plenty of recordings had been available on the ark, sung by several professional musicians, but Clarke couldn’t remember ever hearing a better rendition. Bellamy’s voice was a bit too soft compared to the sound of the guitar and Clarke couldn’t help but notice a few sharp twangs of misplaced strums and the unexpected crack of Bellamy’s voice, but even those imperfections did nothing to diminish the performance.

> “Like a river flows surely to the sea  
>  Darling so it goes  
>  Some things are meant to be  
>  Take my hand, take my whole life too  
>  For I can't help falling in love with you”

Clarke sat and leaned against Bellamy’s shoulder and began to sing along. He skipped a beat, obviously not used to the company while he sang, but quickly recovered for the last verse.

> “Like a river flows  
>  Surely to the sea  
>  Darling, so it goes  
>  Some things are meant to be  
>  Take my hand,  
>  Take my whole life, too  
>  For I can't help falling in love with you  
>  For I can't help falling in love with you”

Neither spoke for a minute or two after they finished the song together.

“That was supposed to be a solo, princess.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Way to ruin the moment, Bellamy.”

“I do my best. We need to be heading back anyway. Nobody but the kid at the gate knows you even left, and I was actually going to do some hunting today.” Bellamy put the aging music back into the zippered pouch and offered a hand to help her up. Clarke peered into the rotted tree. 

“How long do you think you can keep it in here without hurting it?” she asked. The inside of the tree seemed fairly dry, but it hadn’t rained in a couple of weeks either. 

“Don’t have to worry about that. I’m taking it back to camp. It’s selfish to keep this away from everyone else. I’m sure somebody else could learn to play better than me.” She turned quickly and grabbed the neck of the guitar as he turned away. 

“Bellamy, I think you’re allowed to be a bit selfish. You’ve given up enough.”

Bellamy paused before he let go of the guitar. 

“Let’s go home.” Clarke stashed the guitar and plastic wrapped sheet music in the rotted tree and covered it as best she could. 

They walked back, talking much more freely than they had on the trip there. It reminded her of the talk after Mt. Weather, but neither of them were exhausted, traumatized, or soaked in blood. 

“Why did you show me the guitar?” she finally asked. The thought had been bothering her since he finished the song. He could’ve shown anyone. Hell, he could’ve shown the whole camp once he decided he wanted to share his find. 

Bellamy suddenly acted like he couldn’t hear her and fell silent, trudging more quickly through the forest. They’d been through too much together and fought too hard to never speak again. Clarke stopped walking and pulled on Bellamy’s sleeve before he could keep storm past her. 

“What’s wrong, Clarke?” he asked. Bellamy’s hand moved to his gun as he scanned the woods behind her. 

“Nothing. I just need you to stop and talk to me face to face for just a second. Talk to me, Bellamy.”

Bellamy ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “I was tired of staying away from you, Clarke. You reminded me of Mt. Weather and all those people that counted on me, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of being angry.”

Clarke struggled to keep steady as Bellamy started to lose his composure. 

“I’m just so tired.”

Clarke swallowed hard and nodded. “I know, Bellamy, but we can do this.” Clarke closed the distance between them, stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Can't Help Falling in Love With You" always makes me cry so I obviously had to make that the song he was so busy learning. Hope you liked it, because it was so fun to write and I definitely gave myself way too many feelings thinking about Bellamy Blake playing the guitar.


End file.
